


The Lady and the Witcher - A Geralt of Rivia/Reader one shot story.

by darklydeliciousdesires



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Geralt of Rivia one shot, Geralt of Rivia smut, Inspired by The Witcher, The Witcher - Freeform, The Witcher Netflix - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:07:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darklydeliciousdesires/pseuds/darklydeliciousdesires
Summary: You are lady of the manor and unhappily married to a dreadful husband. All until Geralt shows up, that is.Comments are very warmly welcomed!
Relationships: Geralt of rivia/OC
Comments: 1
Kudos: 56





	The Lady and the Witcher - A Geralt of Rivia/Reader one shot story.

You watch him intently as he strides towards the table you’re sat at within the banquet hall of your home. Your guests all stare inquisitively as he comes to a stop in front of you, dropping the three different heads of the chimaera your husband hired him to hunt in front of you.

“Done, Lord Graylish,” he speaks, his deep, rumbling voice making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Looking between the man you’d been forced into an arranged marriage with, the smelly, unkempt, repugnant arsehole who you hated with every fibre of your being and back at Geralt of Rivia, you let out a soft sigh of longing. The latter is most definitely more to your taste.

“Good, took you long enough,” your ill-mannered husband replies, wiping his fingers on a napkin and dropping it back down on the table before clicking his fingers and pointing to his goblet, a terrified servant girl scuttling forward to re-fill his mead. “So, I did state you could name your price, witcher, so hurry up and do so. I’d like to get back to my meal.”

“Of course. Two thousand oren, and a night with your wife.” The sip of mead you take at this precise moment is sprayed back into your goblet in shock at what he’s asked for, your heart skipping what feels like several beats.

“You fucking want what?” Your husband roars, his piggy eyes suddenly wide and alight with incredulity.

“You heard. Or would you like for me to be more specific? If so, I intend on taking your wife to your bed and doing a better job of fucking her than I bet you ever have. Those are my terms of payment,” Geralt tells him boldly, looking to you and winking. Just that one wink from his electrifying amber eyes makes your stomach flip, like a cage of butterflies has been unleashed within your belly.

The guests all around look on in utter awe, faces alight with expectancy, riddled with curiosity over how this spectacle will play out between the witcher and Lord Graylish. Will he claim his payment in the form of you, the honourable Lady Graylish, or be slain by the many guards dotted around the banquet hall perimeters, his body then flung to the dogs? The dinner entertainment isn’t usually so exciting within the walls of Graylish Manor.

“And what if I refuse? I can order my guards slay you where you stand, you know.” To this, Geralt smirks, makes an ‘hmmm’ sound deep in his throat and then looks at your husband amusedly.

“Then you’ll have no guards left, I shall take double the amount in coin and still fuck your wife.” You have absolutely no idea how you keep down the laugh bubbling in your throat, but you do, mouth clamped tightly shut as you try not to let it show how much this whole display has entertained you more than anything so far in your miserable, four year marriage.

Turning in his seat, your husband stares at you for a few moments before looking back at Geralt, taking another mouthful of mead while you busy yourself emptying your own goblet out of sheer nerves alone.

You can hear your heart beating like a war drum in your ears as he contemplates his decision before finally clearing his throat. “Fine. Here’s your orens,” he begins, throwing a large leather pouch which Geralt catches nearly. “Go on then, get off your backside and go and make some use of yourself for once.”

You feel embarrassed at being spoken to like that in front of so many, the connotations behind his words, until Geralt approaches where you sit and offers his hand. “Lady Graylish.”He extends as you rise from your seat and take it, his rough fingers folding around yours as he escorts you from the room, smirking widely.

“Which way to your bed chamber?” he asks, once outside the banquet hall, being eyed distastefully by the two guards present at the door.

“This way.” Pointing to the large, double staircase, you let go of his hand and take the lead. Lifting your dress you can scarcely believe what is about to happen as you begin to ascend the stairs, grinning to yourself hugely as you feel the enormous presence of the famed Geralt of Rivia right behind you, your insides fizzing with joy.

Once inside, he immediately sheds his armour and pulls off his boots, removing his black shirt and then turning to face you while you stand there, hardly able to take it all in. A shirtless man with a chest seemingly as wide as the very continent you live upon and tight leather trousers doing nothing to hide the very prominent bulge in the front. He’s there just for you too. What a treat.

“You can laugh now, by the way. I could see you practically chewing your own tongue off to prevent doing such in front of your guests.” This is the point you burst, the absolute insanity and thrill of it, the fact he got such a number over on your husband too, the excitement of what is to come, it all cascades out in your joyous laughter.

“I don’t, oh lords, I don’t understand though. Why would you show me such courtesy?” You ask after composing yourself, grateful that he picked up on your torment (although you had no idea you were giving such away) but a little perplexed why a witcher for hire would even care to lay temporary claim to the wife of someone he’d removed a monster for.

“My intentions are not entirely magnanimous. I’ve done this work for husband many times before, prior to your marriage and during, it’s just this is the first time I’ve seen you. In short, I detest him. He’s an arrogant, obnoxious shit of a man with a beautiful wife he doesn’t appreciate. Since all I want at present more than anything else is to fuck, I intend on liberating you for a while.

“I imagine that having to let that odious creature you’re married to climb upon you night after night is a less than pleasurable experience for you, so let me give you one that is. If you wish, I’ll help you escape afterwards too.” These words, they are exactly what you’ve been waiting for ever since being essentially sold into marriage, spoken by the kind of man who you’ve secretly wished to rescue you from your less than desirable fate.

Holding his gaze, you don’t reply in words. Reaching back, you take the cord tying the corset part of your dress and unfasten it, the tight fabric releasing and loosening further as you pull at it, Geralt’s eyes staring at you intently as you slide the dress, many underskirts and your undergarments off.

Your husband was your first and to him, all you’ve ever been is an object, a vessel for seed to (so far unsuccessfully) produce an heir. As you step out of the puddle of expensive fabric upon the floor though and watch him taking in your nakedness, you feel desired for the first time ever. Even more so when he bridges the gap between you, pulls you into his arms and kisses you with ferocious passion.

The way your body reacts shocks you, just from a kiss, from feeling his big hands grasp your buttocks. Gooseflesh prickles your skin, charging across your body like a herd of wild horses, your nipples hardening, the thick, dark hair of his chest tickling them deliciously as he walks you backwards.

Your back hits the wall hard, your kiss unbroken as he presses himself against you, the feel of him absolutely exquisite to you, just his body against yours making you smoulder. He then sinks down, kissing you between your breasts as his hands knead at them, his lips pressing into your abdomen just once before he lifts your leg over his shoulder and…

“Oh, fuck!” You exclaim at feeling his tongue run slowly and firmly from your opening to your clit. It’s the first time you’ve ever experienced a man lick you intimately too, since your husband couldn’t care less for your arousal before mounting you. To feel this, his tongue repeating the same action again and again, has you panting in ecstasy, your mouth agape as your hands lose themselves in his white hair.

“He doesn’t do this for you, does he?” He asks, kissing your pubic mound as he looks up at you.

“Never has,” you state breathlessly, Geralt frowning.

“Fucking imbecile.” With that, he continues to electrify your senses, his full lips encasing your clit and sucking softly to begin with, that pressure deliciously increasing steadily, watching you avidly all the time. It’s the most incredible thing in itself to you, to have him look at you as he bestows such pleasure upon your body, a stark contrast to being bent over and invaded carelessly by the clumsy oaf you’re married to.

Your body quakes lustfully as his mouth continues to satisfy you with vigour, never knowing anything like what you are experiencing thanks to the huge, handsome man currently tending to you so expertly. His hands creep back up your body, making you shiver into his touch, grasping your breasts and pinching your nipples as you exclaim loudly.

Your moans don’t cease, those verbal exclamations growing in frequency and volume as his tongue beats across your clit faster, harder, so deliciously thoroughly that he has you wailing at the top of your voice, howling in bliss so loudly that there’s a sudden thump on the door.

“My lady, are you quite alright in there?” you hear one of your guards shout over your screams.

“Absolutely sublime, now fuck off!” you yell back before your exclamations continue, Geralt snorting with laughter a little before amazingly, moving his tongue faster still. The strong pulses of your gathering release surge through you, your hips shaking against his face as you gasp for breath, gripping his forearms before you feel it wash over you completely, like a huge wave crashing against a cliff.

He steadies you when you wobble from gratified dizziness, standing up as he holds your waist and kisses you fervently while he takes off his trousers at speed, picking you up and using his weight to pin you to the wall with his massive chest, holding your legs open wide as his colossal erection nudges against your slit.

He growls with impatience to be joined with you, you reaching down to grasp his hardness and guide it to your entrance. You bear your hips down against him, Geralt making that final push to be within you in one fluid movement, a shuddered breath leaving both of you at feeling yourselves unite.

Your soaking wetness sheathes him well, your mouth agape as he begins to thrust into you, your back sliding against the wall as you’re fucked ardently from the get go. You both need that intensity as much as each other, there will be no casual build up between you. Your need, your attraction to one another, they’re simply too strong to contain.

In short, he fucks you just as he told your husband he would. He fucks you so amazingly that you never, ever want him to stop. Your body bangs against the wall from the rapacious force of each thrust, your insides ablaze for him as he kisses his way from your neck to your mouth again. This. This is what a man is.

Moving suddenly he carries you to the bed, putting you down in the centre without losing the tangency between you both, his thick hardness continuing to cut through your wetness with ease. You take him in, his good looks, raw manliness, everything that makes him so sinfully desirable and smile with sublime happiness. This is infinitely better than the evening you had previously envisaged.

Your mouths connect again as he runs his fingers through your hair and begins to pump into you at a furious pace. He gives you everything you’ve so urgently desired, the weight of a man on top of you, the heat of his skin as it slides against yours, a huge, all-consuming cock ramming into you relentlessly and voraciously as he groans without reserve.

Sliding his arm under your leg he then levers it up, your knee touching your shoulder and allowing for the kind of deeper penetration that makes you virtually whimper with ecstasy, his hand gently clutching your neck as he continues to kiss you with unbridled lust.

It unimaginably hot, so erotically charged that you feel light headed with pleasure, crying out breathlessly, his public bone grinding against your clit with every single thrust that invades you. Lord, he knows exactly how to fuck.

Looking up at him you feel your heart skip several beats at his handsomeness, Geralt resting his forehead to yours and running his fingertips down your cheeks before he begins kissing and licking the side of your neck. You close your eyes and surrender to him totally as you feel a hot, tight ball of pleasure start to pulse within.

It is everything you’ve ever desired. It’s heated, primal, raw sex, your mutual moans filling the room as you kiss wildly, hands all over each other, revelling in the feel of one another. You savour every last moment, drink him in, wanting to burn the memory of what he feels like inside of you into your mind so you may recall it at any point in the future.

You never want to let the memory slip or fade of how incredible he feels, fucking you relentlessly, like a wild beast. He doesn’t pause or slow, his mouth agape as he groans, hands gripping yours, not breaking eye contact for a second.

The pace becomes so frenzied that your soft moans once again become a crescendo of wails, the bed creaking wildly beneath you both as his sweaty body collides with yours. You can barely breathe for panting, your body tensing and moving against him in perfect sexual sync, your nails trailing sensuously down his back, groans becoming louder, lost in the abyss of complete sexual euphoria.

Your breathing becomes ragged as he starts moving so furiously within your dripping wet cunt that his guttural groans of an all-consuming, white hot orgasm are the catalyst to your own, both beyond control as you slip over the edge, the build-up now giving way to the utter divine.

You feel fluid and utterly drunk on him in the aftermath as he collapses on top of you, colours continuing to illuminate behind your closed eyelids as the warm, post-orgasmic waves run through you. It feels as if you are floating somewhere far from reality, in some other place at another time, just you and the witcher between your legs.

You spend a little time stroking one another’s nakedness, calming down entirely from such dizzying pleasure before you both dress again.

“Now, the part about helping you escape,” he broaches as you tidy your appearance. Going to the bed you then pull out a large iron box from beneath, turning to the curtains to your side and removing the key from its hiding place before opening the lock and taking a few bags of gold. You’ll need them, since you never intend on coming back here again.

“Ready.” With that he escorts you from your bed chamber, taking you out and straight through the front door, around to the stables where you order one of the grooms to saddle up the fastest horse, a huge, black beast your husband often favours to show off upon. He’s yours now.

Geralt climbs back onto his equally large, chestnut mare and the pair of you ride off, through the gates and over the road to freedom.

“Well, Lady Graylish. Here is where I must leave you. If you take your horse for about three miles in that direction and then turn off the beaten path, you’ll come across an inn where you can lodge for the night. I have more monsters to deal with tonight besides the chimaera and your husband.” His words make you laugh softly and you smile at him, touched by his gentlemanliness when he takes your hand and kisses it.

“Thank you, Geralt of Rivia. Here, for your trouble,” you tell him, taking one of the bags of gold and throwing it to him.

“Having sex with such a beautiful woman, I require no recompense for that. You only owe me the same again should our paths ever cross in the future.” You nod as you catch the bag again, placing it back in the saddle bag before you.

“That you can most certainly count on.” Smiling one last time, you turn your steed and push him forward, galloping away to your new life, laughing to yourself. Finally, you’ve gotten everything you’ve ever wanted.


End file.
